


Memories Of You

by twdsunshine



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Pre-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-25 09:26:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18258467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twdsunshine/pseuds/twdsunshine
Summary: Negan loses himself in memories of his late wife.  His real wife.





	Memories Of You

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for @negans-writings Valentine’s Writing Challenge over on Tumblr. My prompt is ‘I know…I know I shouldn’t ask you this but…please don’t leave me right now?’ and can be found in bold below.

The amber liquid in Negan’s glass glowed golden in the candlelight as he blew gently across the flame flickering on his desk.  Shadows danced over the walls as the orange flash of heat snaked away from his breath, and his lips curved at the sense of power it gave him.  The ability to distort something as old and primal as fire spoke to something deep within him, the same part of him that raised its head and bellowed whenever one of his people dared to disobey him, and drove the deep, thrusting rhythm of his hips when one of his many wives allowed him to slip between their sheets and expend his excess energy consummating their relationship over and over.  He knew that they derived little pleasure from the act, other than the obvious physical release, but the truth was, it didn’t matter much to him.  He needed it.  Needed their lithe bodies to remind him that he was still alive, their breathless gasps to drive away the memories that haunted him in the moments when he was alone, and their presence to see him through the long nights when sleep eluded him.

In all honesty, he was sinking.  He knew it, and he feared his men knew it too.  Something had shifted in his head, in his heart, in the deepest parts of his gut, and now the past plagued him, snapping at his heels like a hungry hound or one of the corpses that lined his fences.  It was his confession to the Priest, he was sure of it.  He’d had no choice if he’d wanted to get out of that damn trailer alive, but God, he regretted it now.  Speaking her name - in the context of her, his wife, his real wife, instead of the weapon that he’d named in her honour - had brought her back to life in his mind, allowed her to seep into his thoughts, and now he felt her with him every second of the day.  He’d been trying as hard as he possibly could to fight against it, to steel himself against her and the womanly wiles that had seduced him and stolen his heart in the first place, busying himself with the intricacies of conflict and the day-to-day minutiae of keeping the Sanctuary running smoothly, but tonight he was making an exception.  

Tomorrow, Negan was going to war.  Or to what he hoped would be the final battle of a war that shouldn’t have happened in the first damn place.  Rick and his band of merry fucking men had been a bump in the road that he hadn’t seen coming, and his morals and ideals had been tested time and time again as they sought to undermine him and free themselves from his control.  But finally the tables had turned, and he had a plan that he was sure would quash the rebellion and ensure him his victory, using their inside man as his inside man, double crossing their double crosser, and stretching their tiny minds to their very limits.  And yet…  As perfect as it seemed, he couldn’t quite shake the tiny whispers of doubt that were husking at him through the darkness.  What if…?  What if it all went wrong?  What if things didn’t go to plan?  What if tonight was his last?

It was a sobering thought, and no matter how much whiskey he poured down his throat, he couldn’t summon up that pleasant sensation of numbness that usually got him through when he had sunk into a depression.  And so, his memories tonight were providing him the escape he needed, the company he missed so painfully badly, to get him through till morning.

Lucille…

 

* * *

_Her laugh.  That was the first thing he heard.  The library was almost silent, only the soft rustle of pages turning disturbing the peace of the study area as Negan attempted to complete the assignment that had completely slipped his mind until deadline day crept around and there he was with a blank page in front of him and less than eight hours to produce something that wouldn’t earn him a failing grade.  And then it had cut the air, that sweet, tinkling sound, and he’d lifted his head, scanning the room to find out just where it was coming from._

_She’d been several tables away, sitting with her girlfriends.  Her head was dipped, a curtain of dark, shiny hair hiding her features from him, as she scribbled on a torn sheet of paper.  As he watched, she looked up, large, mascara eyes flicking from side to side, full lips curved in a playful smile, before delicate fingers slid the paper to the girl beside her, another laugh escaping her as the note was read._

_Had it been anyone else dragging his attention from his work when his final grade depended on its completion, he was sure that he would’ve been annoyed, possibly even marched over and told them in no uncertain terms to take their damn playground games elsewhere.  But not her.  He was frozen in place, transfixed by the gorgeous specimen whose gaze passed over him, barely taking any notice of his presence, as the paper moved back across the table and stole her attention once again._

_She meant nothing to him, this girl.  He’d never seen her before, was sure he’d remember if he had.  And he wasn’t some limp-dicked sap who fell in love with every girl that so much as glanced his way with a smile on her lips - really, he wasn’t.  He had his share of luck with the ladies - more than, if he was honest - and he knew his dimples and long, lean figure would ensure that his bed was never empty if he was in the mood for a little fun.  But in that moment, he was sure that he had to know her.  He couldn’t imagine returning to his daily routine, going on with his classes and trips to the gym, and nights out with the other guys on the team, and letting her slip from his memory.  There was something about the tug his heart gave when she began to gather her things, slipping her books into her bag, before pushing back her chair and standing, that felt inexplicably significant._

_She passed him as she made for the exit, the spicy-sweet scent of her perfume assaulting him and turning his insides to jelly.  But, just as they had before, her eyes skipped over him, barely registering his existence, and he was too intoxicated, dazed and confused by his body’s reaction to this complete stranger, to think to follow her.  And then she was gone._

 

* * *

 

He smiled now at the memory of it, how insecure he’d felt at her complete nonchalance and how foreign a feeling that had been.  At that age, with all of his swagger and macho-confidence, he wasn’t used to being ignored by the fairer sex and it stung even more when he’d found her so fascinating.  He’d found out later, of course, that he’d been the subject of the notes that she’d been passing back and forth with her friend, but she’d been far too cool to let on at the time, setting her gaze on the back wall and sauntering past him as though he didn’t exist.  It had soothed his bruised ego, just a little, though he’d still lamented how much time she’d wasted by waiting for him to cross her path again before finally deigning to give him the time of day.

It had seemed so vitally important later on, all that lost time, when he was seeking to make the most of every moment, frantically grasping for every second, needing to make them count.  But at the time, he’d relished the chase, determined that she wouldn’t ignore him again.  It had been two weeks before he saw her again, and on that occasion, he knew he wouldn’t be letting her leave without at least knowing his name.

 

* * *

 

_‘Negan.’_

_‘I’m sorry.’  Sparkling hazel eyes focused on his face, brow creased in confusion as she waited for him to go on.  She was leaning against the bar whilst the bartender went about mixing up some fancy cocktail that Negan didn’t know the name of, and he’d used the opportunity to make his approach, aiming to get her alone, away from the gaggle of friends that had surrounded her for most of the night.  He’d noticed her as soon as she entered the club, his gaze drawn to her like a magnet, and he’d been watching her ever since, ditching the guys and setting up camp at a table several metres away, where he had a clear view of her as she chatted and laughed._

_‘It’s Negan,’ he said again, switching on the charm and flashing that smile the chicks loved, cheeks dimpling beneath the fine layer of dark stubble that coated them.  ‘Shit, doll, no need to be coy about it.  I’m pretty sure you’ve been checking me out.  Thought I’d save you the trouble of asking my name.’_

_‘I-I’m sorry, I don’t think… You’ve been here all night?’  Her own dimples were on full display as she smirked, and damn if he didn’t wanna trace them with his tongue, see if she tasted as sweet as he dreamed.  ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.’_

_She was good.  He might even have bought it had she not passed by his seat on her way to refresh her drink.  It was a long, winding route to take to the bar, when she could’ve just skirted round the edge of the dancefloor.  Sure, she’d barely registered his existence in the library, but that night he knew she had to have felt his stare, penetrating, searching, and the brush of her arm against him as she passed by had been an invitation.  He wasn’t stupid._

_‘Maybe in your dreams, doll,’ he teased, curling his tongue behind his teeth and watching as the action drew her gaze to his mouth, her own teeth catching her bottom lip before she realised what she was doing.  ‘C’mon, you gotta know we’re the two hottest people in this club, right?  Makes sense we’d end the night together.  Least you can do is tell me your name.’_

_There was a beat of hesitation, long lashes feathering against her cheeks as she blinked once, twice.  And then her smirk slipped seamlessly into a smile full of promise and she held out her hand, cocking her head to one side.  ‘Lucille.  But don’t go thinking you’re gonna win me over with that dashing smile and a few smooth lines.  It’s gonna take a lot more than that.’_

_‘Is that right?’_

_‘Oh yeah.’  Her drink arrived, and she took it, placing the thin plastic straw between her lips and taking a sip, mesmerising Negan as she swallowed.  ‘But hey, I’ll give you a chance.  Don’t mess it up, Negan.’_

 

* * *

 

He could still remember how it had felt to dance with her for the first time.  It hadn’t been a slow song, more’s the pity, but he’d still managed to pull her close, snaking an arm around her waist and guiding her forwards until her body was pressed flush with his, hips swaying in time.  She’d known the song, had told him it was her favourite, and she sang along, husking the lyrics in his ear with no damn clue just what she was doing to him.  That close, her scent was more than intoxicating.  It was… God, he wanted to swim in it, drown in it.  She’d worn that perfume until the day she died, and suddenly, he found himself longing to smell it again, just once more.  Finding a bottle in the damn apocalypse would be nigh on impossible, he knew, but what he wouldn’t give just to inhale that sweet aroma and let it calm the nerves that kept him on edge, unable to relax.

His glass empty, he reached for the bottle to refill it, still finding himself frustratingly immune to its effects.  Only the dregs remained, and he sloshed them into the tumbler, waiting for the very last drop to drip from the rim before screwing the lid back into place and tossing it into the trash can beneath his desk with a resounding clunk.

With his drink in one hand, and the candle in the other, Negan levered himself upright, groaning when the ache in his joints reminded him just how old he was.  It had been a long few months and he felt as though his body had been beaten and bruised far beyond its capacity, leaving him feeling tense and sore.  If he limped slightly as he made his way through to this bedroom, then at least there was no one around to see the sign of weakness, and it was with a quiet huff of contentment that he set the light source down on the bedside table, illuminating the immediate area in a golden glow, and settled himself on his mattress, letting it cushion the parts of him that complained so bitterly.  Another sip of his drink passed his lips, and he exhaled heavily.  What would she say if she saw him like this, he wondered.  An old man, tired and restless.  Almost made him glad that she’d passed before he could become what he had.  Almost.

 

* * *

 

_‘I’m hungry.’_

_Negan had been on the verge of falling asleep when her whine had cut through his stupor, dragging him back to consciousness.  ‘You’re what now?’_

_‘Hungry.’  Painted red lips formed a perfect pout as she twisted round in her seat, leaning into him as she fixed him with a beseeching gaze._

_‘It’s 2am, doll.’_

_‘So?’  His arm was slung across the back of the cushion, and she’d been curled against him, but she sat up straighter now, drawing her knees up so she could kneel beside him, lacing her fingers through his._

_‘So, I’ve got class first thing, and then a game I gotta get ready for.  I need to get some sleep, princess.’  He hadn’t thought it possible, but her bottom lip jutted out even further, and damn if it wasn’t the cutest thing he’d ever seen.  For a moment he considered leaning forward to snag it between his teeth, tug on it gently, try and awaken a different kind of hunger, but her soft huff let him know that she was deadly serious.  ‘Alright.  Dammit, you know I can’t say no to you.  What do you want?’_

_He climbed to his feet, running a hand through his tousled hair and picking his way across the room to the fridge that stood in the small makeshift kitchen area, but her reply halted him in his tracks._

_‘Honestly, I could murder a hotdog right now.’_

_‘A hotdog?’  He span on his heel, leaning back slightly as a chuckle rumbled through his chest.  ‘You fucking kidding me, sweetheart?  I mean, I got cold pizza or I could whip you up some scrambled eggs, but that’s about all I can do.’_

_‘We could go out.’  She clambered from the couch, stretching her long limbs in a way that she’d figured out pretty quickly hypnotised him enough that he’d agree to pretty much anything.  ‘Take a drive.  Find somewhere that’s still open.  C’mon, baby.  For me?’_

_He didn’t want to, really he didn’t.  His eyes stung with the desire to be closed.  Since hooking up with Lucille on that first night, they’d been nigh on inseparable, spending long nights talking, making out, and keeping the rest of the campus awake as they explored each other’s bodies.  That was what kept him hooked.  Sure, he’d had a lot of women, probably more than he should’ve, but never anyone so responsive, whose bodies molded to his as exquisitely, whose cries unleashed such a desire in him to elicit more.  He knew how she tasted, how her face contorted as she fell apart, and he would never get enough, he was sure._

_‘Please.’  His hesitation had spurred her on, and she sidled closer, trailing her fingertips over his chest and pushing herself up on tiptoes to ghost her lips over the shell of his ear.  ‘Pretty please.’_

_‘Fine.’  With a soft growl, he reached for his jacket, shrugging it on over his thin, white-t-shirt, and shoved his feet into the sneakers he’d abandoned by the door.  ‘Let’s go get you a damn hotdog.  But you’re gonna owe me for this, you hear me?’_

_‘Count on it.’  She’d tugged on her boots as he was readying himself to go, and sashayed past him, hips swinging, shooting him a wink over her shoulder when she reached the door.  ‘I want chilli on mine.’_

 

* * *

 

They’d driven for over an hour to find a diner that was open, Negan taking his time navigating the empty streets, the radio churning out tinny music as Lucille hummed along.  He loved to hear her sing, always had, and, in truth, he’d been eking it out, reluctant for the night to end.  The fresh air had woken him, chasing away his tiredness, and when they’d finally strolled in to that lone diner, neon lights shining just off of the highway, he’d been just as hungry as she was.  They’d feasted on thick, greasy hot dogs, swallowed down with gulps of icy cold chocolate shakes, and she’d looked so damn happy that he felt like he might burst.

He’d fallen asleep in class the next day, missed several easy kicks in the game, but he hadn’t given a damn.  His priorities had shifted, and he’d known that all he wanted was to make her smile like that every single day.  Everything else could go to hell.

He’d failed at that.  Of course, he had.  He’d hurt her in a million different ways in the end, but there had been so many good times before that.  So many sweet memories that he could cling on to.  It had been so long since he’d let him picture those moments so clearly, the images vivid in his mind, that he almost felt like he was experiencing them for the first time all over again.  If only…

 

* * *

 

_‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’_

_Negan could only nod as he stared out towards the horizon.  The sea was still, the water cold as it rippled around his ankles, and the sky was ablaze with colour as the sun kissed the day goodbye.  ‘No denying that.’_

_Lucille turned to beam at him, splashing her way towards him, her floaty summer dress swirling around her knees.  ‘Thank you for bringing me.  This has been the perfect long weekend.’_

_The semester was over, and they’d chosen to celebrate by taking a trip out to the coast, spending their days reclining on the sand, making love on the sagging bed of the apartment they’d rented, and taking long strolls, hand in hand.  ‘Like something out of a fucking romance novel,’ Negan had commented several times, though in all honesty, he was enjoying every second.  With Lucille, it didn’t feel cliche.  It felt like he was seeing the world through new eyes, and appreciating every tiny detail._

_‘You’re perfect,’ he told her now, laughing as she launched herself into his arms, lips urgently seeking his as the water that clung to her legs soaked through his shirt._

_‘You’re smitten.’_

_‘So, what if I am?’  He pulled away to grin at her, chuckling when she pressed a pointed fingertip into the dip of his dimple.  ‘I’m a damn lucky man and I fucking know it.  Gotta make the most of it.’_

_‘Before what?’_

_‘Before you figure out you’re way too fucking good for me, sweetheart.’_

_‘Oh baby.’  She threw her head back as Negan spun them both around, heading for the shore with long strides.  ‘I’ve known that for a while now.’_

_‘Yeah?  How come you’re sticking around then?’_

_‘Because, for some stupid reason, I love you anyway.’_

_‘Some stupid reason,’ he scoffed with a shake of his head.  ‘Because I treat you like a damn princess, that’s why.’_

_She hummed against his lips as his feet found dry sand, sinking into the soft powder, and he dropped to his knees, laying her down and covering her body with his.  This late in the day the bay was empty, just the two of them and the beauty of nature, though they were both oblivious to it now as his mouth explored the sensitive skin of her throat.  ‘Yeah, that might have something to do with it.’_

_‘I’m gonna spend the rest of my life making you feel special, doll.  I swear to you, I will do whatever I can to make you fucking happy.  Anything.’_

_‘The rest of your life?’  Her gaze met his, widening in surprise at his declaration, a hopeful smile flashing across her face.  ‘Those are big words, Negan.  Almost sounds like a proposal.’_

_It wasn’t supposed to be.  It hadn’t been his intention.  Shit, he didn’t even have a damn ring but, with her hair fanned out across the sand and her eyes sparkling, warm hands smoothing over the firm planes of his chest, he couldn’t think of a single reason to turn back now.  ‘Well, why the fuck not?  We should do it.  You and me.’_

_‘Get married?’_

_‘Yeah.  You want to?’_

_She paused for the briefest second and his heart skipped a beat, confidence faltering ever so slightly, but then her arms were locking around his neck and pulling him back down so she could pepper his cheeks with kisses.  ‘Yes, I want to.  Of course, I want to.  Let’s get married!’_

 

* * *

 

It had been the happiest day of his life, without a doubt.  Lying there on the secluded little beach, in a tangle of limbs with the girl he loved, knowing that she felt the same, that she wanted to spend her life with him…  He’d been on cloud nine, not a single whisper of uncertainty wavering his resolve that he was doing the right thing.  So, it was his first serious relationship.  So, it had only been a matter of months.  He was man enough to give her the life she wanted, to prove to her every day that she came first.

How long had that lasted?  Draining the rest of his drink, Negan set the glass to one side, the frown lines etched into his forehead deepening as he tried to place the moment that the magic had faded away.  Not the wedding, though that had been a damn shit show.  Countless faceless friends and families, all tagging along for a free feed and a chance to get disgustingly drunk.  He’d shaken hands, kissed cheeks, and rescued Lucille from the clutches of more than one overly-friendly older man, but the wedding night had been enough to make up for all of it, and his girl had been glowing.  

No, he thought.  It came after that.  When they’d moved into their own place, bringing with it responsibilities that he’d never had to think about before: rent, bills, grocery shopping.  It wasn’t that he begrudged it - hell, he would’ve been in the same situation had he been single.  It was just that it had meant falling into a routine, monotonous, dull, and that rut had quickly begun to feel like a prison.  

 

* * *

 

_‘Is that the last of them?’ Negan asked, as Lucille deposited a sagging box onto the kitchen counter, and she nodded, wiping a hand over her brow and grimacing at the sweat that had beaded there._

_‘Yep, that’s it.  We’re in.’_

_It wasn’t a big place.  One bedroom; one bathroom; a lounge and a tiny kitchen that you could barely swing a cat in.  But it was theirs, and they’d both woken early that morning, full of excitement at the idea of having their own space, a place that was theirs alone.  It felt like a big step, but one that they’d both been ready to take, and they’d been laughing as Negan pulled the truck that they’d packed full of all of their belongings away from the kerb outside the dorms._

_The shine had worn off gradually as they’d cleaned the new place from top to bottom, their skin coated in a fine layer of dust and grime, before lugging everything they owned inside with aching backs and blistered fingers.  Negan could see the dark circles under Lucille’s eyes, the stiff way that she held herself, and he knew her well enough to know that all she wanted in that moment was a long soak in the tub and a hot meal._

_‘Hey, why don’t you go take a bath, huh?  We can unpack this shit tomorrow.’_

_‘But, Negan-’_

_‘Don’t fucking argue with me, princess.  You look beat and I’m about ready to drop myself.  Go clean up.  I’ll drop the truck off back at the rental place and grab some pizza on my way home, okay?’_

_She nodded, too drained to bother trying to argue again, then her lips curved in the ghost of a smile.  ‘Home.  I like that.  Our home.’_

_‘That’s right, sweetheart.  Just you and me.  We’re really stuck with each other now.’_

_‘I think this pretty much sealed that deal,’ she teased, waving her wedding ring in front of his face, before pushing herself up on her tiptoes to brush her lips over his.  ‘Okay, you’ve convinced me.  I feel disgusting.  Don’t be long.’_

_‘I’ll hurry back to you, doll.’_

 

* * *

 

Negan swivelled his long body around on the bed, kicking off his boots before pushing himself to his feet.  He didn’t want to remember anymore.  He knew the pain that was coming, could still feel it smarting in his heart when he allowed himself the indulgence of feeling anything at all.  Instead, he stretched, easing his t-shirt up and over his head, the chill in the air instantly raising goosebumps over his skin.  The vertebrae in his spine clicked with the movement, and he rolled his shoulders and crossed the room towards the window, staring out into the black.  A single torch beam zigzagged back and forth down in the yard below, one of his men keeping watch, patrolling the length of the perimeter, and his eyes followed it for a moment, before drifting back up to the sky.

A silvery moon hung high above the treeline, though the sky seemed to be void of stars, stormy-looking clouds masking them from his vision.  He hoped they’d clear before tomorrow.  It seemed ominous somehow, like a sign that things were going to go badly wrong, and he shook his head to rid himself of the feeling.  He had to stay positive, for his Saviors, for his sanity.  Perching on the narrow window sill, he drew one knee up to his chest, toes curling against the cool chipped paint, breath fogging up the glass as he rested his forehead against it.  He needed this to go well.  He needed everything to fall into place.  He’d worked too hard to lose it all now.

But then, it wouldn’t be the first time.

 

* * *

 

_‘Honey, I’m home!’  Negan paused inside the front door, straining his ears for any sign of life in the still house.  It had been a long, damn day, and he’d sped all the way home, eager to sit himself on the couch with a beer and watch a movie with his girl.  But there was no answer and, when he made his way through the living room to the kitchen, he found it empty.  ‘Lucille?’_

_Retracing his steps, he began to climb the stairs, pausing halfway up when a soft noise floated out from beneath the bathroom door.  She was crying.  His shoulders slumped, and for a moment he considered turning around and heading back out again, finding the nearest bar and drinking his fill.  As callous as it sounded, this had become a regular occurence, monthly in fact, and it was beginning to drag on him like a lead weight.  He didn’t know the right thing to say.  He didn’t know how to make this better.  But, as the sobs continued, they spoke directly to his heart, and he knew that he couldn’t leave her._

_Continuing up the stairs, he stopped outside the bathroom door, knocking gently.  ‘Sweetheart?’_

_Silence.  And then the shuffle of movement on the other side, and the door swung open, revealing the face of the woman he loved, eyes bloodshot and puffy with tears.  ‘It started.’_

_‘You got your period?’  She nodded, lips quivering as she fought against a fresh wave of emotion, and he pulled her into his arms, cradling her trembling figure against his chest.  ‘Shit, doll, I’m sorry.’_

_‘I really thought this time…’ She tailed off, hiccuping quietly, and he squeezed her tighter, at a loss for what else to say._

_‘It’ll happen for us, baby.  It will.  You just gotta give it some time.’_

_‘We’ve been trying for months!’_

_‘I know.  I know.  But… It doesn’t always happen right away, right?  That’s what the doc said.  We’re still young.  We don’t have to rush this.’_

_‘I know.’  She pulled away from him, wiping her hands across her face as she tried to calm herself, to regain control.  ‘I know.  You’re right, I’m sorry.  I just want this so bad.’_

_‘I know you do, princess.  It’ll happen for us, trust me.  It will.’_

_‘And what if it doesn’t?’  Wide eyes locked on his, seeking reassurance, and his jaw fell open as he desperately sought to find the words that would bring her some comfort.  They wouldn’t come._

_Instead, he said nothing._

 

* * *

 

Negan’s eyes snapped open and he pushed himself away from the window, as his own silence reverberated around his head.  Stupid.  He’d been so stupid.  He’d sensed her distress but he’d been powerless to do anything about it, too afraid of saying the wrong thing to risk saying anything at all.  He liked to think that it would be different now, if he’d found himself in that situation with the wisdom of age and the benefit of hindsight, but hell, his mouth still got him into trouble more often than he’d care to admit.

Still, he’d done what he could, seeking the help of specialists, paying through the nose for expensive treatments and therapies that were supposed to improve their chances of conception, but it had never seemed like enough.  Back then, just as now, nothing ever seemed like enough.

Tiredness blurred his vision, and he stumbled back across the room towards his bed, collapsing onto the mattress and pulling the covers up around him, nestling into their warmth, as the memory chilled him from the inside.  He knew what came next and he hated himself.  So, he tried to fend it off, letting his eyes drift close, and trying to embrace the slumber that he felt lurking somewhere beneath the surface, ready to drag him into unconsciousness.  Morning would come round quickly, he knew that.  It always did when he was dreading seeing the first rays of sunlight creeping through his window.  He needed to rest.  He needed to let go, just for a little while.

 

* * *

 

_‘Negan, where are you?’  Lucille’s voice crackled from the speaker of his cellphone and Negan grimaced, shooting an apologetic look at the girl pressed against him in the corridor at the back of the bar._

_‘I’m out with some of the guys from work.’  He stepped away from the warmth of her supple body, signalling that he’d be right back, making his way towards the fire exit at the rear of the building and out into the fresh air of the parking lot.  ‘Shit, sorry, doll.  Everything okay?’_

_‘No, I need you to come home.’_

_‘Seriously, sweetheart?  We’ve talked about this.  I’m just having a few beers after a long fucking week, alright?  It’s nothing untoward, I promise you.’_

_‘I don’t care, Negan.  I need you now.  Please.’_

_The line clicked and then she was gone, and he let out a heavy, whiskey-scented sigh.  Nothing untoward.  He was a fucking liar and he hated himself.  The guys from work, they were mostly stuffed suits with little desire to socialise and even less personality.  In all honesty, he’d rather watch paint dry than meet up with any of them over beers out of hours.  No, his company was a million miles away from the other teachers that made their living at the local high school.  A petite young thing with a wide smile and a taste for the more sophisticated things in life.  He’d met her several weeks ago, and she’d quickly become his favourite Friday night activity._

_Yes, he was an ass for cheating.  He knew it.  He lived with the guilt.  But things with Lucille, they weren’t the same as they used to be.  She’d asked him once what would happen if she couldn’t get pregnant, and it turned out that this was the answer.  She’d withdraw into herself, becoming thin-lipped and quick to snap, and he’d seek affection elsewhere, losing himself in the athletic prowess of girls far too young for him with questionable judgement and a thirst for vodka._

_Casting one last look back towards the bar where his latest conquest was waiting for him, Negan let out a frustrated growl, but still he turned towards the sidewalk and began the walk home, cursing himself with every thud of his boots against the pavement.  The worst thing was, she knew.  Lucille knew.  Of course, she knew, she wasn’t stupid.  He was too lazy to bother covering his tracks, and he was sure that, given a chance, any shrink would jump at the chance to tell him that he was seeking a reaction from his wife, some sign that she still cared about him despite the family that they’d failed to produce together.  Maybe that was true.  Or maybe he was just an asshole, and he was never destined to be a good husband.  Who the hell knew?_

_When the house came into sight, he squared his shoulders, jangling his keys between his fingers as he strode up the path.  The door opened before he could reach it, and he swallowed hard as he took in Lucille’s tear-streaked face.  She was ghostly pale, and, highlighted by the shine of the porch light, he noticed for the first time how much weight she seemed to have lost, wondering how he’d missed it before.  The curvaceous woman with a lust for life that he’d fallen head over heels in love with had withered away before him, and he’d had his head too far up his ass to even realise how broken she was._

_‘I’m here,’ he greeted her, for lack of anything else to say, and she nodded slowly, moving back so that he could step inside.  He passed her, sloping into the living room and dropping down onto the couch, spreading his legs out, unsure whether to be defiant or afraid.  ‘What is it?  What’s wrong?’_

_‘You were with her, weren’t you?’_

_‘Lucille, don’t-’_

_‘I can smell her perfume on you.’  She sank down beside him, wringing her hands, and he prepared himself for the outburst that he expected to follow, but it never came.  Instead, her voice shook as she asked, ‘How the hell did we end up here, Negan?’_

_‘We’ve been through a whole lot of shit, sweetheart.’_

_‘Yeah.’  She ducked her head, hiding behind her hair, and Negan longed to reach out and tuck it behind her ear, but she was so far away from him now and he wasn’t sure if it was still okay for him to touch her.  ‘Well, there’s worse to come, I think.’_

_She wasn’t angry.  There was no hostility radiating from her, no bite to her words.  Just a tired resignation, and… Fear, he thought.  She was afraid._

_‘Lucille.’  She glanced up at the sound of his voice, and he inched closer to her, his chest tightening at the vulnerable look on her face.  ‘What is it, baby?  What’s going on?’_

_‘I went to the doctor last week.’  Her voice shook, and he finally worked up the courage to take her hand, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles across the back of her knuckles._

_‘You never said.’_

_‘I didn’t think…  I’ve just been so tired.’  She shook her head, casting her eyes towards the ceiling.  ‘I thought, if anything, they’d just tell me I was depressed, send me to see a counsellor or something, but they… They sent me to the hospital instead.  They wanted to run some tests.’_

_‘Oh, sweetheart.’_

_‘I-I had a call this morning to say they got the results, and they- They asked me to go in straight away, so I did.  I had to call in sick to work.’_

_‘What did they say?’_

_‘Work?’_

_‘No, at the hospital.’_

_‘Right.’  Again, she ducked her head, and this time he did smooth her hair back, needing to see her eyes as they filled with tears, so lost, so scared of something.  His stomach knotted.  He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what came next.  ‘Cancer, Negan.  They said I have cancer.’_

_‘Shit.’_

_‘Yeah, that’s… That’s pretty much what I said.’  She let out a humourless laugh.  ‘They, err… They said they’re gonna start treatment right away.  Tomorrow.  They wanted to give me today to process, but, honestly, I’ve just been crying and walking round in circles.  I-I needed you.’_

_‘I’m sorry I wasn’t here.’_

_‘No.  You were out with your whore.’  There it was, the contempt.  And he couldn’t blame her for it.  Not before, and definitely not now.  His whole life, everything he knew, had just gone into a tailspin, and he had no clue where either of them would end up.  ‘I needed you, and you were with another woman.’_

_‘I’m sorry.  I am, truly.  If I could make it up to you, I would.  Just tell me what to do, sweetheart.’_

_‘I want you to come with me tomorrow.  I-I need somebody there to listen to what the doctors are saying.  I can’t… I just zoned out and I don’t even really know what I’m going in for.  I need you by my side.’_

_‘I will be.  Every step of the fucking way.’_

_She nodded, tugging her hand from his grasp and standing, though it didn’t escape his notice how frail she looked.  How far along was this shit?  How could he not have seen it before?  ‘Thank you.  I- I think I’m gonna go to bed.’_

_A single tear spilled over, snaking down his face, catching in the dark stubble of his cheeks, his mind reeling as he watched her turn away.  His girl.  His Lucille.  He’d let her down so badly, and now the universe was making him pay.  ‘Can I come?’_

_She paused.  ‘Negan, I don’t-’_

_He couldn’t bear her hesitation, the pain in her voice, and he cut her off, begging, pleading, not to be left alone to carry this burden, to sit and replay all of the million ways that he’d fucked things up. **‘I know… I know I shouldn’t ask you this, but… Please, don’t leave me right now?’**_

_With a almost imperceptible shake of head, she left the room, and he crumbled._

 

* * *

 

It had been the beginning of the end.  He’d stayed true to his word, at her side for every appointment, every session of chemo, when she woke from the surgery they’d hoped might save her.  But it had all been for nothing.  She’d fought with everything she had, his warrior princess, but it had been too much for her, and he’d watched in horror as she wasted away.  It had been a war that she’d had to fight alone.  He couldn’t lend her his strength, he couldn’t take away her pain.  All he could do was hold her hand and vow that he would be faithful to her until her last breath, and he had.

The room was lightening with the early glow of morning, and sleep was still beyond Negan’s reach.  In just a few hours, the factory below would be buzzing with life as his Saviors prepared themselves to go to war, and he’d have to stand tall and lead them, with Lucille - the spikier, battle-scarred baseball bat that he’d named in honour of the only woman he’d ever loved, who had saved his sorry ass time and time again when he’d never really been good enough, never really deserved it - raised before him.  He’d have to issue orders, to pretend that he had a damn clue what he was doing, when the truth was that, without her, he was still lost, making it up as he want along and hoping that the victories would keep rolling in.  It had worked so far, but it wouldn’t work forever, and he couldn’t shake the feeling in the pit of his stomach that his luck was about to run out.

Giving up on the hope of getting any sort of rest, Negan swung himself out of bed and redressed, running his fingers through his hair to slick it back from his face as he studied himself in the mirror.  The strain of the apocalypse, of what had come before, was evident in the lines around his eyes, the creases in his forehead, and the stubble around his mouth was peppered with grey.  God, he was getting too old for this shit.  Maybe it would be easier to let the worst happen, to open his arms and welcome defeat and the relief that his inevitable death would bring.  Maybe…

Reaching for his jacket where it hung over the back of the chair in the corner, he dug his fingers into the small pocket that sat close to his heart, pulling out a small dog-earred photograph, faded with age though no less beautiful because of it.  His girl, as she had been when they’d first started their lives together: young and well and happy.  

‘Shit, sweetheart, I guess I might just be joining you a whole lot sooner than I thought,’ he murmured as he smoothed his thumb over the corner of her smile, remembering the moment it had been taken, how in love they’d been.  ‘You better be fucking waiting for me, doll, because I have a whole lot of making up to do, I know that.  I just need a second chance.  I love you, princess.’

For a fraction of a second, his traitorous ears almost thought they could hear her laughing, that sing-song sound that had caught his attention back on that first day he’d seen her, that had kept him coming back for more until he was in so deep that he couldn’t imagine being without her.  But it faded away as quickly as it had started, and he knew that he was just sleep-deprived and sentimental.

‘Right.’  Tucking the picture away, he turned his attention to the other lady in his life, barbs gleaming as he retrieved her from where she leant against the wall beside his bedroom door.  ‘You look fucking beautiful baby.  Bet you’re thirsty as shit, too, huh?  It’s definitely been a while.  Now, let’s go end this thing, whaddya say?’


End file.
